Coming Back

When I was still in High School a few years ago, I had a “typical” group of friends. You know, the outsider ones that seemed to come together and become close just because they didn’t want to fit into anywhere else. There were, in all, about five of us. This story is about one of these friends, whom I will call Jane for her privacy.

By the time we got into our sophomore year, Jane had started dating this guy. Let’s call him Bob.

See, everyone knew Bob. He was just one of those jerks everyone seems to have an encounter with. Everyone in our grade, and even some of the people in other grades, knew Bob was a nasty person and, in general, was rude and mean. Not to mention, he really didn’t tend to treat his girlfriends right. So, to say the very least, none of us could really be entirely happy for her even though it was clear he made her happy. In fact, we were worried about her. 

That said, my other friends and I tried desperately to be supportive and happy for her. Listening to her and telling her we were so glad she was so delighted with him and really meaning it. At the time, we sat together in a music appreciation class, and I would sit there and listen to her gush about her relationship with Bob. 

Every day it was - look what Bob sent me! Or you won’t believe what Bob and I did this morning, isn’t it adorable? On and on. Story after story, every single day. 

And honestly, our other friends or I would not have cared a single bit. Jane was obviously very in love with him and happy to be with him. But it was the fact we knew Bob was not a nice person and could see how maybe she was getting too deep with this guy with what she knew about his reputation for just being the worst. Of course, any and all worries we expressed to her were shut down and caused a fight. 

This came to a head one day when she decided we were all snubbing her for loving someone. And that we didn’t care that she was happy. 

We tried to talk things out with her. Explained that we were ecstatic that she was happy, and wanted nothing less for her. That so long as Bob made her happy, we weren’t upset at all. And if we come off acting like that, it was only because we cared about her and wanted her safe. All of us even apologized if we didn’t seem enthusiastic about her stories, or were uncomfortable around Bob. 

Sadly though, none of our pleadings worked. Eventually, that trimester ended, and Jane stopped talking or sitting by any of us. She’d already stopped seeing us at lunch, and Bob seemed to take up all her free time after school. In PE class, she even switched to partnering with someone else to avoid one of us talking to her. We’d been best friends since middle school, and she wanted nothing to do with us. 

All of us felt guilty, especially me. Mostly because Jane was with me when she “had enough of us hating her boyfriend,” even though I don’t remember having said anything in particular that would have upset her. At the time, I remember trying to be particularly excited for her when she would go on and on about him, even. The whole group seemed quiet without her, though we were still friends, of course. We always talked and laughed. We were all writers and wrote all sorts of fanfiction and roleplay. Jane hadn’t written with us or showed us a story in so long that it wasn’t even a huge loss. But we still desperately missed her. 

The rest of the school year passed. By May, none of us had heard from her in weeks or tried too. At that point, we’d given up and accepted she had chosen Bob over us. It hurt, but we had each other. 

Summer passed without us hearing a single thing about her, either. It wasn’t till the end of our Junior year something happened, and we freaked out. Someone mentioned Jane had gotten into a fight with Bob, and they had broken up. There were other rumors- pretty nasty ones too. But none of them mattered. When we heard about it, despite the fact we hadn’t talked to her in almost over a year, we were still, predictably worried. 

That said, we all decided to stay out of it. Judging on how Jane took out protectiveness before she couldn’t care less about hearing from us now. None of us thought to consider that she would come to talk to us even after they had apparently broken up. The next day though, she did. 

It wasn’t expected, but Jane came to our table in the library, almost in tears and we heard words come from her mouth we never thought we’d listen to. Jane said she was so sorry for what happened, and that she missed up. Not only that but that she was so upset she wanted nothing more than if we’d let her sit with us again. 

So we did, even though we were surprised by her asking. Because what else would we do?

For the whole lunch hour (and honestly, days afterward), we comforted her. Telling her that we forgive her, that she deserved so much better then Bob had treated her- and he mistreated her, very badly in fact. It turned out all of our worries were completely reasonable. My friend hadn’t been hit or violated. But she was a shell of herself. 

Jane didn’t write anymore, she told us. Completely stopped because Bob found her sitting with a pen and a notebook made her look like a little kid. She didn’t like music either, because he never liked the kind of songs he did and would be annoyed listening to him. He made it seem like her fault when he would hang around with other girls, even blatantly flirting with them. And blamed her when he was upset with his, also awful, parents. Her grades, thankfully, didn’t suffer because school was a priority her family wouldn’t let her slack on. But it was something he was persistently angry and berating her about. 

It broke all of our hearts. We were shocked even just how bad it had been for Jane. None of us recognized this girl anymore; she had been so broken. 

Though it does get better. 

After some time, we roped Jane into writing with us again. Even taking a creative writing class, which she loved. She also began to listen to music again. There was a day she put on an absolutely awesome song, and we all ended up getting in told off for dancing in the library. Not that we cared much because everyone was laughing too hard. But she started to come to all of our choir concerts again, too. All of us apologized for any lingering nasty feelings that developed in the year we hadn’t talked, and all caught up. 

Slowly she began to be herself again, around us, and with her family, she shut out too. By the time we graduated as seniors, Jane was back to being the Jane the rest of us knew and loved. 

That’s another thing none of us saw coming. Our friend, nicknamed here Jane, came out of it better and stronger than before.